


Home

by rockwell_psycho



Category: Lawn Dogs (1997)
Genre: Best Friends, Drabble, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Feelings, Feels, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hugs, Kissing, Light Angst, Loneliness, Melancholy, Old Friends, One Shot, POV Third Person, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-26 00:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18271820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockwell_psycho/pseuds/rockwell_psycho
Summary: An unexpected meeting 20 years after the events of Lawn Dogs.





	Home

He sighed, sitting at the bar counter. Ordered whiskey. Why the hell does he feel so goddamn tired? It’s Friday night after all… Apparently these times when Friday nights meant parties were gone. Well, what did you expect? You’re almost 45, Trent… No, actually 45 is not that old yet. Bullshit. Maybe it’s some kind of a midlife crisis or something?..

He sighs again, takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, then puts the glasses back on. Takes a sip of his drink. He’s thinking about how tired he is of this whole routine where every day seems similar to one another.

He can’t really tell what’s wrong with him. Everything is fine. He’s got a job. Not super exciting, but selling lawn mowers is definitely way better than mowing the lawns. Of course there were times when he used to dream bigger, wished to become a professional sportsman, for example… But he can hardly remember these days. Most of his youth he just wanted to find a decent job with decent salary, to become  _somebody_  - not just a trashy lawn mower boy living in a dirty trailer in the woods. And he succeeded. He earns good money, owns a flat in the city center, people respect him and no one calls him “trash” any more. He did good.

So… Why is he in such a shitty mood? Everything is fine. Even better than fine. But he feels like something is missing. This feeling doesn’t let him enjoy this Friday night and this really good whiskey he ordered. What the hell?

It’s totally not about relationships. After his latest breakup he realized he actually quite enjoys being a single man. Women seem to find him pretty charming, so… Casual flirt, casual sex even… For now he was okay with it and didn’t feel the urge to settle…

But at the moment he feels lonely. Lonely and tired.

He empties the glass and orders another.

So weird. He used to hate his life back in the days. He was nobody. With no money, no normal job and place to live, practically a hobo… But there were moments he felt so stupidly, ridiculously happy and free. Right now in the hustle and bustle of the city and the office routine he’s almost forgotten this feeling.  It would be nice to go back there, to that beautiful and quiet place by the lake. Switch on the music, jump into cool water… No. He’ll never come back. That’s the page of his life he’s turned ages ago and there’s no return.

It’s not his home.

But where is it though?..

\- Hey there.

He turns his head to the sound. A girl. Definitely younger than him. Rather tall and slim. Long blond locks. Her big grey eyes are scanning him with a hint of curiosity and he catches himself on a thought that this look is somehow familiar.

\- I figured… If we’re both lone rangers tonight, it might be a good idea to join you, - she says and for a split second he’s a bit baffled by her boldness.

\- Do you always approach strangers in the bar just like that? - He finally asks, chuckling.

\- Well, let’s call it my style, - she smirks. - So, may I?..

He shrugs and she takes a place next to him. The barman approaches and she orders martini. Trent gives her a curious glance.

\- Um, may I ask…

The girl looks at him questioningly, taking a sip from her glass.

\- What is a pretty young woman doing alone in the bar on Friday? Bet you’ve got a bunch of guys who’d be glad to accompany you… Or at least a bunch of friends to hang out with?

\- These guys are boring me, - she replies. - I’ve always been a weird one. As for friends… To tell the truth, I probably had only one true friend in my life.

\- Oh, - he nods. - I can relate to this, I guess.

\- Really? - She smiles again. - I thought handsome men like you are never lonely.

\- Jesus, - he lets out a small laugh. - Your flirting style is really on point.

\- Thanks, - she gives him a proud look. - Your laughter… It seems somehow familiar… Could we possibly meet before?..

\- I doubt it. Most of the time I’m busy at work, you know…

\- What do you do?

\- Nothing special. Just a boring job of a boring man. You won’t be very impressed.

\- Okay. And I’m an artist.

\- Artist? Do you um… paint?

\- Not… exactly… I do some other… artistic stuff… - She stumbles for a second. - Well, actually at the moment I work in the museum of modern art… But I do something in my free time… I’ve got lots of projects.

He smiles, looking at her. Apparently, the routine hasn’t consumed her yet, hasn’t made her give up on big dreams… Good for her.

\- Well… Cheers to your projects to become reality than, - he says, raising the glass.

\- Cheers.

For a while they keep talking, laughing and drinking. Trent feels warm inside and he’s sure it’s not only because of alcohol. He likes her company. And she seems to like his company as well. At some point he realizes they don’t even know each other’s names. He’s about to ask when she suggests going for a smoke. It’s one of those bars where you can’t smoke at the counter and at the tables.

He follows her to the smoking room, his mind already pleasantly fuzzy due to the alcohol. The bar was dimly lit, and here it’s even darker. At the doorstep he awkwardly trips, almost bumping into her, but manages to hold onto the wall.

\- Sorry, - he mumbles, realizing she’s trapped between him and the wall, his hands at her sides.

\- It’s okay, - she smiles, her face so close he can feel her breath on his skin.

\- Your eyes are really beautiful, - she suddenly says, bringing her hands to his face and taking off his glasses. She puts them on a small table in the corner and for a split second they just stare at each other. He’s not sure how it happened, probably alcohol is to blame once again, but the next moment his lips are on hers. She seems to be waiting for it, eager to return the kiss. Her lips are soft and warm against his, it feels nice, yet he senses there’s something wrong about kissing her. Something he just cannot quite catch. So he chases the thought away, deepening the kiss. They’re both are adult people after all.

Her hands skim down his chest, slip underneath his shirt, and he shivers as her fingertips brush against the old scar on his belly… That’s when she suddenly stops kissing him. Her face changes as she’s drawing away from him.

\- Trent?..

He blinks at her in confusion, his foggy brain struggling to understand what’s going on. He wants to ask, but the words stuck in his throat as her fingers move to undo a couple of buttons on her blouse. Enough for him to see a long scar between her breasts.

\- D… Devon?..

His heart skips a beat at the realization as she nods slowly, looking into his eyes before reaching out to cup his cheeks. And at this moment he sees very clearly that little girl he used to know twenty years ago. Probably the only true friend of his.  _“Home is in my hands”_ \- she said to him the last time he saw her. Now he’s back home.

\- I missed you, - she breathes out, pressing her forehead to his.

\- I missed you too.

He examines her face. It’s ridiculous. How come he didn’t recognize her? He smiles.

\- Man, look at you!…

She smiles back, fighting the urge to cry, tears already twinkling in her eyes.

\- Come here.

He pulls her in a tight hug and she buries her face into his shoulder.

Words become useless as they stand there holding each other.

\- Trent and Devon. Devon and Trent, - she whispers. - Do you remember?..

Of course he does. Always did.


End file.
